Murderverse
by In the Garden
Summary: A series of AU ficlets in which Sailormoon was never awoken.
1. Part One: Son of the Morning

**Disclaimer: **Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon was created by Takeuchi Naoko, and published by Kodansha. The anime was produced by TV asahi, Toei Agency, and Toei Animation. As this fanfiction is written purely for the entertainment of the author, she makes no material profit from it.

--

**Son of the Morning**

_It is with our passions as it is fire and water: they are good servants but bad masters.  
- Aesop_

--

He was the last appointment of the day. His file included a general background as well as his mug shots, but Ami was well used to disregarding both. This man, this _Zoisaito_ was not someone who could be easily defined or explained. There would have been no need for her services otherwise.

Ami spared a tight smile for the guard at the door. The man nodded back at her, a frown etched on his face. "Be careful, ma'am," he warned, as though she hadn't already spoken with the worst the prison had to offer, but she appreciated the sentiment.

"I will," she replied, and stood aside to let him open the door.

The man seated at the table watched her, green eyes shaded and wary. His hair was a riot of dulled honey-blond hair, obviously unkempt despite the meagre attempt to pull it back into some semblance of order. Ami was appalled - though maximum security, the prison was nevertheless known for efficiency in both the treatment and discipline of its inmates. Yet somehow, this man appeared to have slipped through the cracks.

"Caldwell-san," she greeted as she sat across from him. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I'm Dr. Mizuno, your court-appointed psychologist."

Ami did not expect him to greet this news with any great enthusiasm. Those who did, she'd found, generally did so in the hopes of using her to earn a lighter sentence. She had expected more of a reaction than a simple sharpening of his gaze, however.

"Caldwell-san?"

The man glared at her, an almost animal expression on his face, but then it disappeared and his voice when he spoke was very clear, cultured, if slightly accented. "Zoisaito, Dr. Mizuno. My name is Zoisaito."

"Zoisaito," Ami repeated softly. "Like the stone, ne?"

"If you like," he replied. Far from the hostility he'd expressed only moments previous, his attitude was now one of mild aimiability. He sat very correctly, one leg crossed over the other, and watched her from across the table. Ami was surprised to realise that he made her nervous, and she filed that reaction away for later. He smirked, as though reading her mind, and Ami fought the urge to place a reassuring hand on the briefcase by her chair.

"Are you fond of geology, Zoisaito-san?"

Zoisaito snorted. The sound startled Ami and she jumped, which earned her a slow smile. Green eyes watched her intently, waiting for another sign of weakness as though he were a predator and she, his prey. It was a disconcerting thought, and she glanced quickly at the shackles on his ankles.

"Afraid?" His voice was smooth, mocking and soothing all at once, and Ami knew she should end the session immediately. She'd never lost control like this before, but there was something about Zoisaito that terrified her, something about him that wasn't human, wasn't right. "You should be, Ami-chan," he murmured, eyes never leaving her face.

"You want to know why I did it. What could possibly have driven me to kill a man I'd never met before, ne? If you ask very nicely, Ami-chan, I'll tell you."

It was the repetition that made Ami realise he'd used her first name. "H-how do you ..." She hesitated. However he'd learned her first name, it was not only irrelevant to the session but harmful. The harm, however, was already done.

Like a cat licking cream from its face, Zoisaito shrugged once, an elegant lift of a single shoulder. The curls that had looked so hideously tangled earlier now danced around his face, and she had the absurd thought that nothing so beautiful could possibly exist untainted. By what, she couldn't begin to guess.

"She knows who you are," Zoisaito said in answer to her unfinished question. "Beryl-sama. She knows who you all are."

There was no change in his tone, but his posture was suddenly different. Where before there had been a lazy arrogance, Ami now saw only anticipation, as though she'd accidentally startled a sleeping panther.

"Beryl," she queried, wondering if the rest had been a game and he'd decided to stop playing with her. Somehow, she doubted it. "Another gemstone, Zoisaito-san."

The observation was meant to trigger a response, and it did. His eyes blazed, furious at her for whatever suggestion he'd read into it. He didn't move, didn't speak, but Ami could read the threat in his eyes. Whatever she'd accidentally suggested, she was going to pay for it.

"If I promise to take my time with you," he murmured, "perhaps she will think that a fair trade for Endymion."

--

**Author's Notes:  
**This was written for day 15 of SM-Monthly's January Senshi/Shitennou challenge on LiveJournal.


	2. Part Two: Sweetheart

**Disclaimer: **Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon was created by Takeuchi Naoko, and published by Kodansha. The anime was produced by TV asahi, Toei Agency, and Toei Animation. As this fanfiction is written purely for the entertainment of the author, she makes no material profit from it.

**--**

**Sweetheart**

--

She was running behind, a distressingly common occurrence of late, and only just suppressed a curse when the knock sounded on her door.

"I'm coming!"

Hoping she didn't sound as stressed as she felt, Ami ran a hand through her hair and surveyed her tiny kitchen. She'd planned to have finished by the time Makoto came around - had planned to have cleaned herself up by that time, too - but she'd spent an extra hour following the Chiba murder after breakfast and now ...

The knock on her door was more insistent the second time, and Ami winced. Makoto could have let herself in, she had a key, and Ami wasn't expecting anyone else, but she was getting used to things not going her way. The last thing she wanted was a colleague to stop by for drinks on the first free Saturday she'd had in months. If she was lucky, her appearance alone would be enough to deter any unexpected visitors, though the thought of how unkempt she must look caused a grimace as she hurried toward the door.

"Ami-chan," Makoto greeted the moment the door opened, and then shifted the flowers and chocolate in her arms. When she noticed Ami's appearance, she grinned. "I caught you right in the middle of something, didn't I? Sorry. I would have let myself in, but I could hardly manage to knock, let alone find my key."

The tall woman didn't say a word about the things in her arms, but Ami recognised her tone of voice. It was the one she used every time Ami tried to gloss over a relationship that stalled before it had started, the one she used every time Ami decided a date wasn't worth mentioning, the one that said she might have gotten away with it for a little while, but no longer. Ami pursed her lips at the tone, but decided to ignore it for the moment. She hadn't had a date in months - since the Chiba case was first opened - and Makoto knew it.

"I have a few things going in the kitchen," she admitted instead, taking the vase of flowers from Makoto as the other stepped into the house slippers set out for her. "These are beautiful, by the way. Thank you, Mako-chan."

She was halfway through the living room by the time Makoto caught up to her, the brunette's confusion so thick it was almost tangible.

"Those aren't from me," Makoto said. "Your doorman caught me on the way in, and asked me to bring them up with me." She looked as though she wanted to say more, but bit her lower lip instead, and set the box of chocolates on the counter without another word. Ami placed the bouquet next to the chocolates, and turned her attention back to the stove, pointedly ignoring both her friend and the gifts.

Makoto was never one to be intimidated by silence. Ami tried to focus on the slowly simmering sauce in front of her, but she could feel the other woman watching her, putting things together when all Ami really wanted was for her to let well enough alone.

After a few moments, Makoto said, "You aren't seeing anyone, are you?"

She didn't sound surprised, despite the beautiful arrangement of roses on the counter, and the expensive, tasteful truffles sitting next to them. But then, she'd always complained that Ami's love life was an aberration, so perhaps that wasn't as strange as Ami imagined.

Again, silence descended. Ami didn't know what to say, and she wasn't certain why she felt she needed to say something, but it was making her nervous, having her back turned to her friend, having her back turned to those flowers. Pretty orange sweetheart roses and pink berries; there was no reason for them to make her uneasy, but they did. They made her feel like someone was watching her, and it made no sense.

"There's a card in here," Makoto murmured, breaking the silence. Ami bit the inside of her lip, and tried not to yell at her friend to just leave it. Her sauce was going to be ruined, and all she could seem to do was stir and watch it come to a boil. Like her life, since Caldwell Zechariah was released on bail, only she had the strangest feeling that it was just a matter of everything catching up with her. The too-pretty foreigner with the green, green eyes had been nothing more than the catalyst, the means by which destiny had managed to find her.

"Ami?"

With a start, Ami whirled around and stared at Makoto, wide-eyed. Makoto started to smile, opened her mouth to make a crack of some sort, and then seemed to really see Ami. Whatever it was that Makoto read in her face, it wasn't what she'd been expecting, Ami could tell. The other woman pushed away from the counter and practically ran into the kitchen, wrapping an arm around Ami and pulling her away from the stove.

"Ami," she repeated, her voice heavy with worry, "what's wrong? Who sent you those flowers?"

That was, of course, exactly what was wrong. Ami knew very well where those flowers had come from, and she didn't want to think about it. That game they'd started in the prison wasn't over, wasn't close to over, and any hopes she'd had that he'd forgotten about her were gone now. He wasn't going to let her hide.

"Read the card," she told Makoto, once she could think straight enough to speak. They were at the table, and Ami wished she'd thought to make some tea. She didn't think she could drink any, but the warmth between her hands might have helped some, might have grounded her.

Makoto shot her a strange look, worried and uncertain, but did as she asked, bringing the bouquet to the table and setting it between them while she went about opening the card. Ami reached out, feeling the soft orange petals of the nearest rose. They were beautiful, she realised, perfectly formed, exotic, and romantic. It was the kind of bouquet she would have loved, had it not come from someone who terrified her half out of her mind.

_Happy White Day, Ami-chan._

_I didn't mean to neglect you. I'll make it up to you._

_Always,  
Zoisaito_

As Makoto watched, Ami closed her eyes and laughed, an hysterical, lost sound that seemed to echo in the tiny apartment. She still didn't know what the game was, but she was never going to be free.

--

**Author's Notes:  
**Written for Lytton, who wanted to see more in this AU. Happy White Day!


	3. Part Three: Tell Me Why

**Disclaimer: **Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon was created by Takeuchi Naoko, and published by Kodansha. The anime was produced by TV asahi, Toei Agency, and Toei Animation. As this fanfiction is written purely for the entertainment of the author, she makes no material profit from it.

**--**

**Tell Me Why**

--

Makoto didn't shop at department stores often. They were well beyond her modest budget, and too perfect, with their pretty, petite saleswomen and their impossible to ignore displays. She couldn't walk into one without being intimidated, and she'd never walked out without some purchase or another that she'd never intended to make. This time, however, she had one particular purchase in mind, and not even the new Donna Karan line was going to distract her.

The store seemed all but empty, which confused her, and when the elevator doors opened to reveal a single man already inside, Makoto almost decided to take the escalators instead. She wasn't uncomfortable around men as a rule, but the in the three days since Ami's virtual breakdown, Makoto had found that quite a few things had begun to make her nervous despite never having bothered her before. It wasn't rational, but having seen firsthand how little reason could help in the face of inexplicable fears, Makoto was not inclined to question her instincts. Having caught sight of her, though, the man nodded in greeting and held the doors open for her with his hand, and Makoto forced herself to smile in return.

"Going up?"

In different circumstances, Makoto would have swooned over his voice alone, a rich baritone that managed to make even his polite inquiry sound like a proposition - or an invitation; as it was, she could feel her cheeks heating as she nodded and stepped inside. The gifts department was on the third floor, she rationalised, trying to rid herself of her blush, so the ride wouldn't be long enough for her to embarrass herself further. That helped a little, except that when she reached to press the button for the third floor, his hand was already there.

Makoto jumped at the contact, and then flushed again when he chuckled. It was a gorgeous sound, deep and full, the kind of laugh that invited the listener to join in, and it was the last thing she would have associated with a man who looked as though he'd never learned how to so much as smile.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, and his grey eyes assured her of his sincerity. "I always forget that you modern women are able to do things for yourselves."

"Not as well as you'd think," Makoto retorted. She wished she knew how he managed to say something so outright rude without being offensive. There was nothing self-conscious about his words or his attitude, and still she'd responded as though the jibe had been aimed at him rather than her. It was a minor thing to let bother her, but it was irritating, and her frustration grew when he smiled at her. She'd been right earlier: he was not a man who smiled. All condescension and ice, it left her wrong-footed, and Makoto could feel her unease begin to return once more.

Leaning across the small distance between them, he whispered in her ear, the husky sound of his voice sending chills down her spine even as his breath, hot and startling on her skin, left her reeling. "That's good to hear," he murmured. "It's so much easier when you know your own limitations."

Makoto flinched away, and missed the blow that sent her tumbling forward. It was followed by a sweep of his foot that struck her own out from under her, too fast for her to even try to protect herself against, and her landing lacked any semblance of control. She struck the elevator floor hard, her chin taking the full brunt of her weight and sending shockwaves through her entire body. Her head throbbed, a pain so overwhelming she couldn't react, couldn't do anything but shudder from the shock of it. The edges of her vision were blurring, and it was a relief when even staying conscious proved to be too much of an effort.

--

A heavy foot between her shoulder blades brought her back, and Makoto whimpered as sensation returned in a rush. Her jaw was pure agony, pulsing like fire even when she held her breath against the pain, but her moans brought no reaction at all from the man who held her pinned. It was as though he'd forgotten about her now that she'd proven she was no threat, but that insult was nothing compared to the furious pounding of her jaw and her head.

Lying prone on the floor, she could _feel_ the doors as they opened. If she didn't know that it would only make everything hurt worse, Makoto would have screamed from the vibrations. She wanted to shriek until her throat was raw, but even the tiny sobs she couldn't repress left her shaking in pain. As it was, she couldn't help but writhe against the foot the kept her in place, and at last, that produced a reaction. The pressure on her back disappeared, and Makoto pushed herself up onto her elbows, shaky and weaker than she'd ever felt in her life.

"That was quicker than I expected, Kuntsaito," a feminine voice stated, and as Makoto watched, a pair of pale blue shoes stepped into the elevator.

Kuntsaito, Makoto decided, was the name of the man who'd attacked her; the amount of time it took her to reach that conclusion worried her, until she also decided that she had much more pressing issues to focus on. Foremost of those was the fact that the woman sounded neither surprised, nor inclined to help her.

As Makoto sagged against the elevator wall, Kuntsaito's legs stepped into view, closer to the woman than to her. "Not everyone likes to play Zoisaito's games," he replied, and his voice was as sensual as it had been earlier despite the sudden frozen tone. "I prefer not to waste my time."  
The woman responded with a huff and then, to Makoto's surprise, knelt down. Long, soft-looking hair framed a sweet face, and Makoto drew a shuddering breath as light blue eyes regarded her with a childlike intensity. After a moment, she frowned. "I don't suppose you have any idea what's going on, do you?"

There was no way for Makoto to respond, not without putting herself through more agony than any answer could be worth, but the woman seemed to read her answer regardless.

"Kuntsaito," she barked, disapproval clear in her face. "You know you're not supposed to just attack! That's rude and disrespectful, and I've told you that before!"

Turning back to Makoto, the woman started to offer her a business card, and then seemed to realise Makoto would not be able to take it, because she held it in front of Makoto's face. "I'm Sailor Aluminum Siren, and I'm afraid you have something that I need. Don't worry - it won't hurt very much, and I'll be done in just a moment."

Makoto wanted to protest, wanted to defend herself, wanted to do something, but all she could muster was a single, shrill groan. Kuntsaito's legs had disappeared at some point during Sailor Aluminum Siren's introduction, and as Makoto shuddered, his hands gripped her shoulders, tight and unyielding, and somehow comforting for all that they made her head pound harder. She was going to die. Sailor Aluminum Siren was going to kill her, and Kuntsaito was going to help her, but through her terror Makoto still felt the tiniest shred of gratitude that he was going to hold her while it happened.

_Not like last time_, her terrified mind whispered, and that made no sense, but it helped.

There was a single searing pain in her chest, a ripping sort of burning feeling, and Kuntsaito's grip tightened just the slightest little bit. Makoto couldn't hold her head up at all, then, but it didn't matter because she couldn't keep her eyes open, either, and even her head had stopped hurting.

One of Kuntsaito's hands moved, and what was left of Makoto wanted to cry, but a warm hand caressed her cheek, and she sighed instead. "Beautiful," she heard him say, heard Sailor Aluminum Siren echo the sentiment, and then even that was gone.

--

He'd never approved of the cat and mouse game Zoisaito had initiated with Sailormercury, but as he stepped out of the elevator, Kuntsaito thought he understood, a little. Something felt wrong about the empty shell sitting broken against the elevator wall, and Kuntsaito could still feel her weight resting against him. She had died well, but the thought brought nothing more than a strange regret that she'd had to die at all.

Still ... her star seed was beautiful. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and if every senshi had one ...

For the first time since his awakening, Kuntsaito felt a sense of fear when he considered the woman he'd bound himself to serve.

--

**Author's Notes:  
**Written for day 11 of SM-Monthly's March SailorStars challenge.


	4. Part Four: Proof of Life

**Disclaimer: **Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon was created by Takeuchi Naoko, and published by Kodansha. The anime was produced by TV asahi, Toei Agency, and Toei Animation. As this fanfiction is written purely for the entertainment of the author, she makes no material profit from it.

--

**Proof of Life**

--

Rei did not consider herself a suspicious person but neither did she believe in coincidence. For seven days, the same quiet shadow of a woman had come to pray at the shrine, and for seven days, Rei had endured the same gruesome, blood-soaked visions every time she sat before the Sacred Fire. Not once had she seen the small woman's image in the vision, but somehow, she was a part of it. It was not the first time Rei had seen more than she understood, and often people were represented in ways that made sense only in retrospect.

With her head bowed and her back to Rei, the woman looked no different from any of the nameless housewives and office ladies who patronised the shrine, and yet, there was an aura around her that Rei had never felt before. If she didn't know better, she would have said it was familiar, somehow, like it belonged to an old friend.

Or an ally, though that idea startled her so much she nearly dropped the box of charms she was unpacking, and Rei cursed her clumsiness. The sound of her voice caused the praying woman to turn, her face a waxy white. Rei's eyes narrowed, and she noticed the way the woman hunched in on herself, thin arms wrapped around her mid-section. Any lingering doubt she might have harbored that the stranger was connected to the images from the Fire evaporated at that sight; the blue-haired woman with the china doll's face was being hunted, and she knew it.

Smoothing her hands across the cool silk of her hakama, Rei forced herself to wait a moment before placing the charms on the counter and making her way towards the woman. Showing her own sudden nervousness would do more harm than good, with the woman looking as skittish as a hare.

The waiting figure at the torii stopped her short, however, as did the way the woman seemed to stand a little straighter as one arm wrapped around her shoulders. Rei wished she could make out the second stranger's face, but they were too far away, and the taller figure remained facing away from her until they were out of sight. Uneasy, Rei remained where she was, at the top of the stone stairs, and wondered what it was about the long, sleek ponytail that had set her heart to racing so. Above her, the crows that always flocked to the shrine shrieked, their caws enough to unsettle anyone, but Rei hardly heard them. She had the disturbing notion that the Fire's recent visions had been a warning, one that it was too late to heed now.

Shivering despite the morning's unseasonable warmth, Rei turned just in time to stumble over another unfamiliar woman, and froze the moment she caught sight of long blonde hair spilling across grey stone steps. _Long hair against grey stones, and pale blue eyes wide with surprise. Blonde hair and a red bow, red like the blood that pooled beneath her, coating the ivory-handled knife beside her, red like the lips of the woman who stood in the shadows, curving in a cruel smile, her butterfly wings exotic against the dull, peeling walls._ Rei had just enough time to be grateful she didn't have far to fall before she fainted, her crows' distant calls the last, harsh sound she heard.

--

They stopped at a small café not far from Hikawa Jinja, and Ami sank into an empty booth without a second thought. Makoto had been missing for a full week now, and aside from Taiki, no one else had so much as noticed. That scared her nearly as much as her friend's disappearance - Kino Makoto had a wide circle of friends, and she was not the kind of woman whose disappearance should have gone unremarked. And yet, when Ami mentioned her, she was met with vague, unconcerned shrugs or outright confusion, as though they couldn't quite figure out who she meant.

Taiki interrupted her thoughts, placing a latté on the table in front of her. "You need to stop doing this," she said, her deep alto full of the same worry Makoto had shown the last time she'd visited. Ami squeezed her eyes shut against the memory, and wasn't surprised when Taiki's hand covered one of her own.

A strangled whine escaped her throat, and Ami forced herself to meet Taiki's eyes. "What else am I supposed to do? She's _gone_, and if - if he - if it's because of me ..."

"Don't, Ami."

Taiki's voice brooked no argument, and Ami quieted, leaving the sentence unfinished. Taiki's hand was still on hers, warm and real in a way little else had been for too long. Since _he_ had started that game, with rules Ami didn't know and a prize she didn't think she could let him win. It wasn't chess. There would be no simple checkmate, no one move she could build up to that would stop him. Ami wasn't certain anything would stop him.

"Seiya's coming back," Taiki said, apropos of nothing until Ami looked up and caught the determined edge in her eyes. "He's taking some time off, staying with an old friend from uni. I told him we'd meet him at the airport."

"You want to tell him." Her voice was even, but Taiki winced regardless.

"He can help," Taiki started, and then cut herself short. She'd never been good with arguments, and Ami was too far gone to care.

"No," she said. "He can't. He's your friend, Kou, not mine, and I'm not dragging someone else into this." She didn't even know what this was, but Makoto had been the first person she'd told about _him_, and now she was gone. Ami refused to think past that; gone was bad enough, but if another person disappeared ...

"I shouldn't have said anything at all."

That earned Ami a glare, but she ignored it, her eyes going from Taiki's face to the untouched drink before her. She'd gone to Taiki as soon as Mako had stopped returning her calls, and in the week since, the tall lawyer had done more to keep her sane than anyone. But if Makoto's disappearance was related to Zoisaito's game - and Ami couldn't see how it could be anything else - then all she'd done was endanger another friend. "I'm sorry."

Before Taiki could say a word, Ami fled. She still had no idea what she was doing, but she refused to stand back and just let things happen any longer. A game ... You had to play to have a chance at winning, and she'd been letting him make move after move against her. Somehow, she was going to take the next turn.

--

The blonde was sitting next to her futon when Rei opened her eyes. It was like waking up to a ghost, and Rei couldn't quite suppress her shudder at the woman's small, tight smile. Those blue eyes turned questioning, but there was no way to explain, so Rei returned the smile and pretended she hadn't seen the pretty blonde murdered in her bed, pale throat slit from ear to ear.

"Kumada-san carried you in," the woman said, toying with the waistband of her skirt as she spoke. It was a nervous habit, and the only visible sign she gave that she might have been discomfitted by a perfect stranger collapsing on her. "Are you all right?"

Rei smiled again, the lie coming easily to her tongue, slipping from her mouth before she could think twice about it. "I shouldn't have skipped breakfast this morning - I hope I didn't hurt you. Thank you for your concern."

She continued to smile until Yuuichirou returned and saw the woman out, and then hurried to prepare herself to sit before the Fire once more. She felt sick at the thought, but there was no time to mourn Aino Minako, the woman who would die while a butterfly watched.

--

**Author's Notes:  
**Written for day 20 of SM-Monthly's March SailorStars challenge. Thanks go to Kasey for the beta!


	5. Part Five: Chain Reaction

**Disclaimer: **Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon was created by Takeuchi Naoko, and published by Kodansha. The anime was produced by TV asahi, Toei Agency, and Toei Animation. As this fanfiction is written purely for the entertainment of the author, she makes no material profit from it.

--

**Chain Reaction**

--

His call went straight to voice mail, odd since it was the middle of the afternoon, but Zoisaito was in too foul a mood to wonder at it. Instead, he spoke into the cracked plastic, knowing that the message he left would sound very different indeed in the bright, feminine voice of the deceased Sailorjupiter. The moment he was done, he slammed the phone back in its slender box, glad to be done with it, furious that the use of it put him in its creator's debt.

The longer Zoisaito stared at the box on the coffee table, the more it grated on his nerves. It had been a neat trick the first time he'd heard it, the dead girl's voice coming from the phone in that pretty, lacquered box, and amusing to think that possession could extend to inanimate objects. He'd planned to use it before he took Sailormercury's starseed, had wanted to see her face when Kino Makoto's voice came from her broken phone, but no longer. Now, it was an insult, one Nefuraito chose to make _in absentia _as though Zoisaito wasn't worth the time it would take to do so in person.

Behind him, waiting with the same imperturbable patience that never failed to make Zoisaito want to fidget, sat Kuntsaito. His presence alone was a slight, almost as great of one as the red and black box, and that made Zoisaito want to fidget, too. He didn't like being watched no matter who did the watching, and it was unnecessary - a waste of time that Kuntsaito should have objected to. That he hadn't, that he felt Zoisaito warranted watching, that was what the reason Zoisaito remained seated and still despite the insults that would normally have had him pacing the narrow room, letting his frustrations out in word and action alike.

Zoisaito snuck a single glance over his shoulder, turning the simple look into a glare when glacial grey eyes met his own.

"Have you finished sulking?" Kuntsaito asked. Unlike his eyes, his voice was warm, a rich, resonating baritone that seemed created to command. There were times Zoisaito forgot they were equal now, and it was usually because of that voice.

"I do not need the assistance."

Kuntsaito did not snort, but his silence held the same quality of disdain. Cheeks flushing, Zoisaito stood to face the older king. "I left enough clues; she would have figured this out on her own, without that phone call. I had already planned -"

"You are too invested in this idea of a game, Zoisaito. You have been instructed to kill her and bring her starseed to the garden. I am merely here to ensure things progress smoothly - without the complications Endymion gave us."

"Complications or not, he needed to die," Zoisaito countered. "He might not have had what Galaxia-sama wanted, but he could have served as a warning if -"

Kuntsaito cut him short again, impatience flitting across his face for a second. "There is no one who would have read the signs, and you know that as well as I do. Next time you force two of us to intervene in such a public manner, I suggest you have better justification. Nehelenia will not serve as a distraction again, and the Gardeners will destroy you themselves if they feel you are becoming a hindrance."

"I have not failed!" Zoisaito clenched his fists, angry that he'd lost his composure so easily, angry that Kuntsaito would throw threats around so carelessly. The reference to the Gardeners made him think of Jedaito, as it was meant to, and Zoisaito shivered. He had no intention of meeting the same fate, but how could he avoid it when he was being kept on a leash?

"Kuntsaito-sama," he began, the long-since abandoned honorific slipping from his tongue without thought. He was rewarded with a hint of satisfaction on his commander's face.

"We've always worked well together," Kuntsaito said, his manner casual once more. From the utter unconcern in his voice, Zoisaito knew he'd lost any chance of proving himself this time. Instead of slipping his leash, he'd shortened it, and it rankled. Better Kuntsaito at the other end than Nefuraito or one of Galaxia-sama's pets, true, but that was cold comfort when what he wanted was to cut away entirely.

Before they could continue their conversation however, a key turned in the front door. Kuntsaito was in motion in an instant, stepping into the nearby hall and out of sight. Zoisaito sank back into the chair he'd been using earlier. There was no need for him to hide; as Kuntsaito had stated, the games were at an end whether he liked it or not. Mizuno Ami was fun, but she was nothing more than a single pawn in the end, and that wasn't worth his life.

Ten seconds later, the door openedand as Zoisaito watched, Ami stepped into the apartment. She was so small - so hesitant. He had a hard time believing she could possibly have a starseed, but that was what he was here to collect, so there was no point in wasting time. He let her make it halfway down the front hall, waited until she'd called out for that dead friend of hers, and then rose.

All he said was,"Ami-chan, welcome back." It was enough to stop her in her tracks.

Her face, already pale,seemed to drain of all colour in the space of a heartbeat. Her eyes were wide, so dark it almost hurt to look at her. Terror made some people beautiful, he decidedand managed three steps toward her before she found her voice again.

"_You!_ Where is Mako-chan? What did you do to her?"

Zoisaito frowned, displeased with her preoccupation. "Your friend isn't here, I'm afraid. Not that it matters - you and I have a bit of unfinished business, some loose ends to attend to."

He could see her process his words, watched with a small smile as she took what he assumed was meant to be a calming breath. "Sit down, please," he murmured, gesturing to the couch just in front of the coffee table.

She ignored him, her eyes searching forher friend, taking in the empty kitchen and hall. Just as she looked ready to demand answers, she noticed the lacquered box on the table and froze. Zoisaito wished he could tell what she was thinking, but it didn't matter any more than Sailorjupiter's whereabouts did. Reluctantly, he fingered the slender knife tucked into his jacket's sleeve. It wasn't necessary to physically incapacitate a starseed's owner in order to take it from him or her, but Zoisaito preferred to work without the threat of possible retaliation from his targets. Kuntsaito had taught him that much, at least.

"That's not Makoto's," Ami said at last, her voice confused. It served to pull Zoisaito from his thoughts, however, and he grinned at her, slow and mocking.

"Of course not," he agreed. "But I wanted to see you again, and you weren't quite working fast enough." He leaned forward as he spoke, close enough to loom over her, almost close enough to touch. She flinched awayand he scowled.

"Don't be dull, Ami-chan. I've given you plenty of time to think things through, and I know you've been visiting Hikawa Jinja. Haven't you learned anything yet?"

She didn't respond right away, and Zoisaito straightened, disappointed. Kuntsaito wouldn't give him much more time - he was likely going to face some sort of reprimand for dragging this out as it was - but Zoisaito wasn't ready to kill her just yet. He needed her to understand first. When she spoke again, however, he was unprepared for both the frozen timbre of her voice and the ice in her eyes.

"Stop it."

That was it, just that single command, but at last, Zoisaito saw a bit of the strength he'd been looking for.

"I'm not interested in your games, Caldwell-san. I just want to know what you've done with my friend."

He smirked. "You're not in a position to make demands," he countered, not bothering to keep the amusement he felt out of his words.

"If you tell me where Makoto is," Ami continued,unfazed, "I won't tell the authorities about this. I will not press charges for stalking, I will not report you for breaking and entering, but I need to know where she is."

If she'd been beautiful in her terror, Zoisaito wasn't certain how to describe her in her determination. There was something almost fierce about her, a controlled anger that reminded him of Kuntsaito and he could see the beginnings of a sigil appearing on her brow. Mercury, of course. If that was showing, it was past time to end things.

"Don't worry," he murmured. "You'll be joining her in just a moment." He waited just long enough for her to begin to understand what he meant before reaching for his knives. Long, thin, and good for throwing, he kept a pair on him at all times. Ami tensed when she saw them, the symbol on her forehead first flaring, then disappearing as her determination faltered.

Without a word, Zoisaito teleported. He appeared in the space just behind her an instant later, one knife cocked to throw if necessary, but froze at the shadow on the couch in front of him.

"Star Healer Beam!"

Not taking the time to shove Ami aside, Zoisaito teleported again, managing to escape the brunt of the attack. Ami wasn't so lucky, and he could hear her scream as he reappeared on the opposite side of the room. Whatever it was, the attack must have been weak, but Zoisaito could see the horror on his nameless opponent's face as the small woman writhed on the floor.

"Not a very good saviour, are you?" he taunted, sheathing his knives in order to send a quick burst of energy across the room. The stranger dodged, but not fast enoughand took the full blast in her shoulder. "You shouldn't interrupt if you don't know what you're doing. Ami-chan and I were in the middle of a discussion."

"That's not exactly what I would call a civil conversation," a husky, feminine voice intoned behind him. There was more malice than amusement in the words, however, and Zoisaito threw up a shield just in time to block another attack. Thankfully, it held, but the strain was enough to worry him. Caught between the two leather-clad women, he doubted he'd be able to hold out against a combined onslaught.

And then Kuntsaito appeared beside him, a ball of concentrated energy already forming in his outstretched hand. "Perhaps you're missing the context." There was enough confidence in his voice that Zoisaito could see the first woman visibly check herself, one hand inching toward her bleeding shoulder before she noticed his attention. The gaze she sent his way was furious but even, a challenge, he thoughtand one he would have answered in other circumstances. Next to him, Kuntsaito seemed unshaken by the appearance of two unknown senshi and he took his time examining the women. He did not, Zoisaito noticed, dissipate the energy that crackled above his hand however, and Zoisaito took his cue from that caution, readying himself to raise a full barrier in an instant should the need arise.

"More senshi," Kuntsaito mused. The second woman, the one out of Zoisaito's line of sight, must have started at that, because her companion made a dismissive gesture with her good hand. Zoisaito didn't miss her hiss of pain as the movement jolted her shoulder; if he was right, he'd managed to destroy the entire joint for the time being. It was far from permanent - senshi had an annoying habit of healing well and healing fast - but until it did heal, the pain would be almost overwhelming.

"Galaxia-sama will be interested to hear about this," he replied absently, keeping the nameless senshi in his peripheral vision, but focusing on his commander's expression for the moment. He was still watching Kuntsaito when she moved, too fast for someone as injured as she was, too fast for him to react and her kick to the gut sent him crashing into the wall, stunned and out of breath.

"Go to hell," she snarled. Behind her, Zoisaito could see her companion: a tall, auburn-haired woman. Her expression was cold, frozen with the same hatred that burned in the darker woman's face, but more refined, less raw. Colored light was already gathering at her fingertips, the attack forming slow enough that Zoisaito could see the energy leaping from her black gloves, but still too fast for him to respond to it.

"Star Gentle -"

"Enough!"

Zoisaito gasped as the explosion of light met Kuntsaito's shield. It was impossible, that his commander could have reached him in time, that he would have chosen to protect him when he'd done nothing but prove his own incompetence, and yet, it was Kuntsaito who stood before him. "Sailormercury," he whispered, realising she lay just outside the perimeter of the shield, and could almost feel his commander's dissatisfaction at the reminder.

"Out of your reach for now," Kuntsaito replied, his voice tense as a second attack, a single, concentrated light this time, battered the shield. "It would seem you underestimated her."

Zoisaito didn't respond. After a few seconds, the attacks stopped, and he could see the outline of the senshi as they picked up Mizuno Ami's unresponsive body. She was escaping, leaving, and he couldn't stop her. It had been different before, when he'd let her go, but for her to leave him like this was unforgivable. He stood, slowly, his back and head already aching from the unknown senshi's attack. "Kuntsaito-sama," he whispered, already preparing himself to teleport to the open window, where the women were heading.

He did not expect the restraining hand on his shoulder, or the fury in the older king's voice, and it stopped him as effectively as an outright command would have. "Report to Galaxia-sama, Zoisaito. She will want to know about these star senshi before they interfere again."

--

_She sat at a table. It looked like a woman's vanity, with the gilded mirror on the wall and the delicate lacquered box to one side. The rose in the center was wilted, dark red petals dry and brittle, the stem already stripped of leaves. On the other side, four stones lay pillowed in black cloth, three of them gleaming softly in the candlelight. The fourth, a dull, muted green, was cracked, and it crumbled under her touch. The gritty dust began to scatter, and the table was gone, replaced by a sea of long hair against grey stones and pale blue eyes, wide with surprise. Blonde hair and a red bow, red like the blood that pooled beneath her ..._

The sound of her own shallow breathing pulled Rei back from the vision and she shivered despite the uncomfortable heat of the Fire. She sat like that for several minutes, not bothering to wipe away the sweat that soaked the back of her hakama, her eyes focused on the strange golden stone in her lap. Aino-san had left it, accidentally Rei imagined, but the blonde had yet to return for it. Rei wasn't certain she would give it back, now. The Fire had never responded to an inanimate object before, had never modified a vision as though to accomodate one, but Rei knew that was what had happened. She had begun her meditation, and the stone had seemed somehow to surge in her hands and the Fire had reached for her.

Shaking her head, Rei closed her eyes, forcing her breathing to slow, trying to ignore the way her head throbbed at the memory. She was supposed to be doing something, she was sure of it, but what?

Footsteps just outside the thin doors interrupted her thoughts and Rei looked up, grateful for the interruption.

"Rei-san," Yuuichirou said, after a moment's pause, and to Rei it felt as though the stone in her hand had tripled in weight as she waited for him to continue. "You have visitors waiting."

--

**Author's Notes:  
**Many, many thanks to the amazing, lovely Lytton for the beta. I owe you. **  
**


End file.
